The Training of a Marquess (2 page)

“The boy stays with me,” he said. “He needs to put some meat on his bones, and he won’t do that living on the streets.”

“No, I daresay, he won’t. Does he not have any family?”

“He says not, and if he does, they should be beaten for their lack of care for him.”

“Well then, it seems as if you have a ward,” Aubrey said.

Was that what he wanted? Not really.

****

Chase stood next to the hole in the ground staring down at the box that housed his wife’s body. The vicar’s words were but a buzz in his head. He wished he could ask her why she couldn’t love him. Take care of her and my child, he silently told Harry.

Chase returned to London. The three days he spent at his estate had been as smothering as he had feared. His mother and sisters had overwhelmed him with their attentions, and he’d fled at the first opportunity.

Entering his townhouse, he nodded to his butler. He had intended to go to his chamber, but changed direction at the top of the stairs. Was there still a street urchin living in his home? At the door into the nursery, he stilled.

“Mother of God, you’ve multiplied!” he exclaimed upon seeing two of Harry. He had no idea which boy he had dragged home. Cleaned up, they were handsome lads with their pale hair and dark brown eyes. Thankfully, someone had found them decent clothes. Likely Anders.

Chase had left his valet behind to keep an eye on Harry. It had been a welcome excuse. The man would have fussed over him as annoyingly as Chase’s mother. Maybe worse.

Anders gestured at one of the boys. “My lord, meet Harry’s twin brother, Bensey.”

Ah, the expert on cakes. One of the boys stood and gave a perfect bow. “My lord, I hopes,” he darted a look at Anders. “I mean, I hope Bensey can stay with me. We promise to be good.”

Based on the boy’s improved speech, Anders had performed a miracle in the three days Chase had been gone. “You are Harry, I presume?”

“Aye, my lord, I be—” Another quick glance at the valet. “I am Harry.”

“Anders, may I see you for a moment in private?”

Reaching the hallway, Chase closed the door to the nursery. “How did we come to acquire Bensey?”

His valet gave him a wry smile. “The first morning after you left, Harry disappeared for half the day. Thought he was gone for good. Just in time for luncheon, however, he reappeared in duplicate and wanted to know if his brother could have some cake. I made the same agreement His Grace made with Harry. No bath, no cake. You should know, my lord, as smart and quick as Harry is, Bensey is almost the opposite. There is a strange innocence and simplicity about him.”

“What in the world have I got myself into?” Chase muttered.

Returning to the nursery, he pulled up a chair, turned it to face the twins, and straddled it. “How old are the two of you?”

Harry shrugged. “Mum used to tell us that, then she died. I don’t remember what she said.”

Chase glanced away from the child’s soulful brown eyes. A man shouldn’t have to watch his wife die, a child shouldn’t lose his mother. Teresa’s words came back to him.
Keep them
. Dear God, she knew. Shaken, he turned back to Harry. These children belonged to him now. He cleared his throat.

“I see. Well, I would estimate you are about eight years. So, as of now, today is yours and Bensey’s birthday. Next year on this date, you will be nine.”

“Does we get cake for our birthday, my lord?”

Chase decided he could get Harry to do anything if cake was the prize. “If you wish it.”

“Does we get one cake or two, since we are having two birthdays?”

This was the one to watch. “It’s up to you to decide.”

There was no hesitation. “We wants two cakes, my lord, one for Bensey and one for me.” He stood and bowed deeply. “Thank ye ever so much, my lord.”

Christ, the little devil was clever. He was going to have to keep an eye on him or the child would soon be running circles around him and his entire staff. Harry’s twin didn’t seem to be paying any attention as he busied himself drawing a beautiful garden of flowers.

“Do you like flowers, Bensey?” Chase asked.

Bensey shifted his gaze from the picture to his brother, his eyes wary. Harry moved to block his brother from view. “I tells him not to draw flowers, my lord, but he likes the way they look. Ain’t nothing wrong with him.”

Chase leaned around Harry to see Bensey’s reaction to his brother’s words. His attention back on his drawing, the boy didn’t seem to understand the undercurrents flowing through the room.

Chase studied Harry’s posture as he stood protectively in front of Bensey, anger radiating from every pore. Chase had a sinking feeling in his belly. “Have men tried to hurt Bensey?”

Harry tensed, and Chase had his answer. What would it be like to be that young, living on the streets, having to steal for survival and having a brother like Bensey to protect? Somehow, his problems seemed to pale in comparison.

“You and your brother will always be safe with me,” he gently said.

Harry’s smile was beatific.

Chase’s heart found a new home.

Chapter Two

One year later

Chase glared at the stack of invitations Stillwell had left on his desk. He should have considered society’s hostesses would have marked the date his mourning officially ended—wasn’t ready to face the matchmaking mamas and their daughters, didn’t have any desire to attend their balls and musicals. He would not marry again. His brother, Robert, could produce the next Kensington heir because it was not going to be him.

He scribbled a note to his secretary to regretfully decline all invitations until otherwise notified. A knock sounded on his study door. “Enter.”

His butler stepped into the room. “My lord, you have a visitor.”

“I am not at home, Stillwell.”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but he is most insistent.” Stillwell handed Chase an embossed card. “Lord Bennet.”

What the devil could the man possibly want with him? “Very well, you may show him in. If you see Harry, tell him to meet me in the stables at ten, please.”

“I believe that is where he is now, your lordship.”

“Of course, it is. If you ever catch him trying to move his bed there, notify me immediately.”

“My lord, if Harry decides to relocate his bed, no one will know about it until after the deed is done.”

Chase chuckled. “Right you are.” He waved a hand in the air. “Show Lord Bennet in.”

The man who entered his study was small, bookish looking and held a satchel in his hand. He pushed his spectacles up on his nose. “My lord. Thank you for seeing me.”

Chase nodded at a chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat and tell me what brings you here.”

Lord Bennet sat and placed the satchel on his lap. “I am here on behalf of the House of Lords to deliver a writ of summons. Do you know Thomas Tremaine, the Marquess of Derebourne?”

“I believe he is a very distant cousin, but I have never met the man. What does he have to do with me?”

“As of eight months ago, my lord, quite a lot.”

“What happened eight months ago?”

“He died, my lord.”

This conversation grew stranger by the moment. “I confess I’m perplexed. Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

“First I should tell you the pertinent result of his death. You, my lord, are the new Marquess of Derebourne.”

Well, the devil. “I suppose that is something I should have been aware of, but I guess it just proves how distant a cousin he was.” Nor had he been out in Polite Society this past year, thus missing all the latest gossip. Actually, he hadn’t missed a bit of it.

Lord Bennet handed Chase the summons. “You are his cousin, six times removed, and closest living male relative on your father’s side, thus making you his heir.”

“Do you know how he died?” Chase asked.

“Lord Derebourne took a fall from his horse and hit his head on a rock. His family home, Hillcrest Abbey, is located in Kent and is a profitable estate. He’s well known for his stables.”

The marquess was said to breed some of the best stock in England. Chase gave an inward sigh of relief. It had taken years to repair his family’s fortunes after his father had taken them to near ruin. He had no desire to have the responsibility of another failing estate.

“He had no other family?” When Lord Bennet squirmed Chase was sure he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“His lordship was racing to the village to fetch the doctor for his two-week-old son. The child died the same night.”

“What of Derebourne’s wife?”

“She is in seclusion at Hillcrest Abbey.”

Chase sighed. He didn’t need this. “Does the marchioness have family?”

“No, my lord. She was an only child, and her parents were killed in a carriage accident after she married.”

“So she has no place else to go?”

“To my understanding, no.”

Chase would like to go back to bed and start this day over. He would have to travel to Kent, and had no idea what to do with a grieving widow with no place to go. Profitable or not, he would give it all back without a second thought. The title meant more responsibility. He didn’t need a despondent widow on his hands and didn’t need the income from the Derebourne estates.

Ten years ago, he would have welcomed it. He was one and twenty when his father was killed in a duel and he inherited the earldom. There had been times when he worried he would lose everything not entailed. He had been young and frightened by the responsibility of seeing his family fed and clothed. Creditors had lined up at the door upon his father’s death, and there had been no money to pay them. But he had dug in and persevered, making a promise to himself to never follow his father’s example.

“Is there anything else I should know?”

“Other than to deliver the summons requiring you to appear before the House of Lords for the announcement, I have nothing further.”

Thank God. He needed time to assimilate this turn of events. “Very well, my butler will show you out.”

Lord Bennet stood and bowed. “Thank you.”

“My lord,” Chase called as the man walked out the door of his study. “Do you know the Marchioness of Derebourne’s name? Her Christian name?” The deuce. Why had he asked that?

“Claire Tremaine, my lord.”

****

Claire Tremaine, the Marchioness of Derebourne, read the missive from Lord Derebourne and seethed. It had been three months since he had been informed he had inherited the title and he was only now getting around to visiting Hillcrest Abbey. Granted, he had sent his steward to the abbey a month ago, but only to go over the ledgers. Apparently all the new marquess cared about was the income from the estate.

She had heard rumors about his profligate ways. The vicar’s wife had delighted in passing on the letter from a friend in London detailing the man’s many sins. Never mind the letter was several years old. Once a rake, always a rake, Mrs. Fisherman claimed.

Claire paced the room in agitation. What was going to happen to her horses? Although, they were no longer hers. True, but that didn’t keep her from worrying about their welfare. If nothing else, her husband had, after an ugly scene, given her free rein with the stables. She had put her heart and soul into making a name for the business. Claire couldn’t imagine the new marquess agreeing to let her stay and manage the stables.

She mourned the loss of her son for many reasons. When he died, she hadn’t been sure she could go on living. If Andrew had lived, Hillcrest Abbey would have been his and she wouldn’t be faced with losing her home. She would have been able to stay and raise her son the way she wanted and life would have been lovely for the two of them.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she thought of the baby boy she would never see grow up. She didn’t even have a portrait of him and her greatest fear was that there would come a day she would forget what he looked like. Shortly after he died, she tried to draw a picture of him, but she wasn’t an artist and the effort had been in vain.

She crushed Derebourne’s letter in her fist. She wouldn’t make it easy on him to take the only thing left that was important to her. He could have Hillcrest Abbey; it was his by rights. But the horses were hers and she wouldn’t hand them over without a fight.

Surely, the marquess wouldn’t evict her upon his arrival—could only hope he wasn’t so heartless. She needed to observe him, learn his weakness and come up with a strategy. Feeling better for having the beginnings of a plan, she walked to the bell pull and tugged the rope twice.

When the housekeeper answered the summons, Claire instructed her to ready the master’s chamber. “Also, he writes he is traveling with two young boys, their tutor and his valet. He doesn’t say the children’s ages, but prepare the nursery and adjoining rooms.” She resented the idea of strange boys occupying what should have belonged to Andrew.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Please move my things to the yellow guest room in the east wing.”

Mrs. Smithfield gave her a pitying look and left. Claire had no intention of staying in her bedroom as it was attached to the master’s chamber. By all accounts, the man was a rogue and she wanted to be as far from him as possible. Perhaps she should sleep with her pistol under her pillow. Wouldn’t he be in for a surprise if he tried to enter her room in the middle of the night? She knew right where she would shoot him. Smiling at the image, she headed for the stables.

****

Chase halted Mischief a half-mile from Hillcrest Abbey. Aptly named, the abbey stood in magnificent glory atop the hill. Below the front of the great red stone structure a terrace had been cut into the hill, and grazing sheep dotted the landscape. Below and across from him, a sparkling blue lake covered several acres.

“It’s beautiful here, Father,” Harry said from beside him. “Will you teach me and Bensey to swim?”

Chase was still getting used to being called Father. The twins had come to him a month ago and shyly asked if they could call him Father. He had been honored they wished to do so. By the relief in their eyes, he realized that, even after a year of living with him, they had been unsure of their permanence in his life. He hadn’t thought about it because they belonged to him. To them, it appeared being their father meant he would keep them.